


Who Posioned My Tea?

by Wewheresobeautiful



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Perspective jumping, Post-Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, modified canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9119617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wewheresobeautiful/pseuds/Wewheresobeautiful
Summary: The stake out was a stupid idea. How was he meant to stand god knows how many days with the idiots from Scotland Yard while watching John be offered up as bait? It was a stupid idea.Then someone posioned his tea, and everything whent wrong. But somehow still so right.





	

This was a terrible idea. He had told John this was a terrible idea multiple times but still he insisted. Now here they were, trapped in a run down stake house with Donnovan, Lestrange and Anderson while john set himself up for bait in the stretch of open field before him. This was the last one, the last link to his old life. He needed him dead, he wanted him dead. Scotland Yard had insisted on coming to make it more official or something stupid. He knew what needed to be done should it come down to it, he had the man's scars decorating his back in lovely thick lines. Mycroft was clever, but even he could miss a man when his brother is hanging from a rope, an inch from death. John didn't know, the team didn't know. He told them he was the leader of an underground communist ring that dabbled in prostitution and stolen goods, which was true, just not the whole truth. 

 

Every day John would sit out there with a shabby tent and his fatigues, looking like an easy target and waiting for them to do their rounds for the next slave stock, all while they and the team stayed in the same small rotting stake house with only one bed, one couch and a leaking air mattress. The bathroom didn't even work, they had to fashion it into a outhouse with a bucket and Anderson's deodorant. Not the ideal conditions. Fortunately it had only been 3 days, Sherlock had stayed awake for longer, John knew that, everyone got a bed, everyone was safe to sleep while he remained on watch. But then his tea tasted funny. 

 

“Who poisoned me?” he muttered into the darkness. Anderson and Lestrange snoring their heads off and John having an ineffective sink shower in the 'outhouse’. Donovan smiled softly. 

 

“Go lay down, I set up the couch” she placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him out of his seat. His vision blurring and his body becoming heavy. 

 

“What did you do to me?” He slurred as she pulled up up and dragged his dead weight to the couch, laying g him on his back and pulling a blanket over his limp body, still dressed in his suit pants and silk shirt. She pulled off his shoes and placed them on the floor, smiling at him. 

 

“Everything ok, you're going to be just fine. I'll keep watch tonight” his head swam as she smiled at him, almost pitifully as his eyelids became too heavy to hold up and he fell into a void of darkness. 

 

———————————————

 

John walked in, shocked to see Donovan and Sherlock had swapped places.

 

“Did he crash?” He asked looking at Sherlock passed out asleep on the couch, tucked in like a child. Donnovan shrugged and smiled at him, sipping her own mug of coffee. 

 

“Yeah, he was half asleep at the window. Thought I'd swap places for a night, give the guy a break” she said with a shrug, looking back at the window as she downed the last of her coffee. John looked between her and Sherlock. It was….confusing. ever since he left Mary he'd been living with Harry while his mind pieced together all this madness, but that didn't mean he would stay away from 221B all together, he had had his fair share of late nights over there and feel asleep as Sherlock stared at maps deep into the night. He had never seen him sleep, not since he returned. It wasn't bad, he thought, Sherlock pushed himself so hard, fought so much to remove that time for both of them, even willing to spend the week with Scotland Yard just to catch it's last tendril. He deserved some rest. So John fixed his blanket on the way past and settled in to fall asleep on the air mattress, again. 

 

———————————————

 

He was running. Running so fast but he wasn't moving. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back, his thighs burn in pain, his bare feet being cut on the Forest floor. But it was getting closer. He didn't know what it was but it was getting closer and he couldn't move! 

 

It was dark then light then blinding. He stopped running and shielded his eyes with his arms. They were covered in blood. From his fingertips to his elbows. Crimson red and sticky fresh. John blood. He could see John but he could hear him. Crying for help. Begging Sherlock why. He knew it was John's. It climbed up his arms. Running like water till it covered his chest and moved to his neck, suffocating him. He tried to scream. No noise came out. He could feel the blood seeping into his pores, staying there forever. Sliding into his mouth, filling it was he screamed no noise into the blinding light around him. In his nostrils, he could smell nothing else but John's coppery blood. Then it creeped towards his eyes. He tried to fit, to scream to kick to scratch it from his skin, but it covered his eyes. Filling his grey irises with blood till it was all he could see. John's blood. John's voice. John's screams. 

 

———————————————

 

“Sherlock! Sherlock wake up!” Donovan stood on the side lines watching John shaking Sherlock's trashing body, Lestrange and Anderson sitting up in the bed and watching I'm shocked as Sherlock tried to claw at his own skin, screaming at the top of his lungs as his body jerked I'm a way that was inhuman. 

 

“I didn't know….he was just so awake all the time I thought he could use it I didn't know…” she was crying, terrified as John held his friend's arms down to prevent accidental injury. 

 

“What did you give him? Donnovan what was it?!” John screamed and she sobbed. 

 

“Two sleeping pills in his tea. I packed some for me I didn't know!” Anderson was on his feet, sitting her down on the window sill as the sun began to rise. 

 

———————————————

 

“Sherlock!” 

 

No, no, no stop please. Please John stop screaming. I'm sorry so sorry. I couldn't run. I couldn't stop him. Him was me. I did it. I killed you. Bleed you dry. Bathed in it. I ripped you apart piece by piece. All my fault, all my fault. 

 

“Sherlock! Wake up!”

 

Stop screaming, please. No more. I can't stand it.

 

———————————————

 

He awoke with a gasp. Pushing himself up off the couch and pushing everything and everyone away as he shoot to his feet and ran to the 'outhouse’. Falling to his knees and vomiting the tea and few biscuits he had that day into the mouldy bath tub. 

 

“Get it off, get it off, get clean. Must get clean” he muttered, eyes wide as he stripped off so fast that his shirt ripped at the back seam and the button on his dress trousers flew off. He ran the water, boiling hot. So hot it almost hurt. He needed it to hurt. Needed to be clean. He could still smell it, taste it. 

 

“Clean, clean, get it off. Can't let anyone see. Can't let John know” picking up a pumice stone he rubbed at his arms and chest till they stung red, till his chest hurt and his tongue was stripped. 

 

“Sherlock, stop” 

 

“No, no, stop I can't bare it, I can't hear it, stop screaming John! I'm sorry! I'm clean! Clean, clean, I swear!” He could still see it, oozing out of his body as the water ran down his body. He kept scrubbing. 

 

———————————————

 

John had run after him, so had Lestrange. He couldn't believe what he saw. A half mad man, vomiting in the bath tub then stripping his skin off with a rock and boiling water. How could Sherlock stand it? How could John watch? 

 

The he heard it, the pleading. The Lestrange took a better look. He was destroyed. His friends back whipped so bad that there was no skin left, it was all scar tissue. Thin, thick, long and deep. Whoever got him had fun with him. There were cigarette burns on his thighs and buttocks. He didn't want to know what the front looked like. John was approaching him like a caged animal, slowly walking over and calling his name. Trying to sooth him back to reality. He left, they needed time alone. He could be of no help lingering in the doorway. Hopefully Donovan hadn't fainted.

 

———————————————

 

He couldn't bare it. Oh god Sherlock. Stop, please stop. His was stripping his skin raw. Please Sherlock stop. Don't bleed. I can't watch you bleed again. Please stop it. Stop it! 

 

“Sherlock! Stop! For me! Stop it!” John yelled tears running g down his cheeks as he stepped into the shower, soaking his clothes and grabbing Sherlock's wrists to pull the pumice stone from his mouth. 

 

Sherlock blinked. 

 

“John?” He nodded and Sherlock stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time. As of he had forgotten what his flatmate looked like. Then he sobbed, and grabbed John tight.

 

“John…..i'm so sorry” his fingers dug into his back. It was painful. The water was too hot. But the pain kept them grounded. He needed the pain. Sherlock needed it to. 

 

———————————————

 

“Is he alright?” Greg returned to Sally on his lap, softly crying as she claimed herself down. 

 

“I don't know” Sally hugged him tighter, he hugged back. 

 

“John will get through to him, John can help” he said confidentially, squaring his jaw and nodding sternly at Greg. He smiled softly and nodded back. 

 

“I think you're right there” Greg started the kettle up and they waited. 

 

———————————————

 

“John” he felt so good in his arms. So soft, so strong, so purely alive. He pressed his fingers into his waist and pressed his lips against the veins in his neck. The heartbeat grounded him, he watched the blood wash away from his arms and down the drain. Clean, he was clean. 

 

“It's ok Sherlock, I'm here” Sherlock sighed shakily into his neck, held him closer. The water was too hot, his arms and chest hurt,his tongue felt swollen in his mouth. It was perfect. 

 

He turned the water off. Lowing them both to the floor and let himself curl into the arms of John Watson. Let him stroke his hair, let him softly whisper comforts in his ear. Let himself be taken care of. His kissed him. Locking his lips softly against John's, cupping his cheek. His lips hurt, his tongue was no better. John would cure it, make him feel better. John kissed him back, melting into him, gripping the curls at the back of Sherlock's head as he whimpered into his mouth. 

 

Yes this was ok. John was here, he was alive, he was clean, so clean,and John would kiss him all better. Yes this was ok. He was ok.

 

———————————————

 

The stakeout ended. He could get the guy later. Three days at bait, John had had enough. He was moving his stuff back to 221B, he had already called Harry. He couldn't leave him, not again. He knew it now. What Sherlock did, what he was still doing. He let him stay up, but when he couldn't, he slept beside him, holding on as he tossed and turned. He would always make sure Sherlock woke up to his face, from now till the day he died.

**Author's Note:**

> Legit wrote this at midnight so expect crappy spelling and grammar! I'm sorry! I'm tired! 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy dispute all that!


End file.
